


Bound By Blood

by TheLastAtaraxtia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Slash, Soulmates, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-16 12:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21507625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastAtaraxtia/pseuds/TheLastAtaraxtia
Summary: Being the Boy Who Lived was never a big deal for Harry. He grew up with his Godfather and was well on his way to becoming an Auror with a happy group of friends and relationship with Draco but when people start dying, his past may be coming up to haunt him. Harry wants to focus on Quidditch and passing Defence Against the Dark Arts but professor Tom Riddle is making that difficult. Luckily, Harry has the man who had frequented his dreams since before he could remember, but he's starting to wonder if the man is really a figment of his imagination. SLASH SOULMATES VAMPIRE HARRY/VOLDEMORT
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 7
Kudos: 34
Collections: Harry and Voldemort





	1. Somewhere only we know

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first time using this site! I have only ever used Fanfiction so if I'm doing anything wrong then please let me know! This story is going to have a bit of a slower start romance-wise but it will have plenty of action. There is a death scene at the beginning of this chapter so skip it if that makes you uneasy. Let me know what you guys think!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Pairings:** HP/TR, Sirius/Tonks, Harry/Draco (will not last very long or be a big part of the story), More will be added/revised as the story progresses.

**Rating: M**

**Summary:** When Voldemort died, Tom Riddle found a… different way to survive. Harry is the boy who lived, has lived a normal life with Sirius as his guardian, and is going to follow in his footsteps and become an Auror if he could just figure out his DADA professor…Tom Riddle. People are dying, and the past seems to be unwilling to stay dead. **AU Harry, slight Dumbledore bashing (Not much), Slash, Vampires**

**Hello to my readers,**

**Chapter 1:**

The village of Little Hangelton was quiet, nestled in between forest and farm country, its residents asleep in the small hours of the night. The night was dark and cool, the soft patter of rain was the only sound to be heard in the village and dim streetlights were the sole source of light along the dreary, worn roads. The villager’s homes were dark as the town slept, unaware of the struggle going on within their walls.

An shrill cry pierced the calm night as a man streaked through along the street at full speed, running towards the inn that stood at the head of the village, standing taller than the dark rooftops. His head whipped from side to side, scanning the area with panicked eyes, as he clutched his wand in a shaking hand. His blurred reflection could be seen as he passed the shop windows along the road, his only company in the eerie night. The night air was cold on the back of his neck and he knew he was bleeding out at an alarming rate but couldn’t slow down or else _they_ might catch him, he suppressed a shudder hurrying forward.

Calls from an owl in the forest beyond the town were the only sounds permeating the air, the man wondered if he had somehow shaken off his assailants. Hope renewed some energy in his sore limbs and he knew if he had made into the inn, the inn he had arrived in only that morning, then he would make it to the Floo-connected chimney and escape. As the thick wooden door of the building arrived before him, his eyes began to haze-over from blood loss, but he was intent on survival and shook his head to clear the fog. He had survived Voldemort and the death-eater trails, he was able to overcome this too.

With a gleam in his eye, he grasped the bronze handle and heaved the door open. For a glorious moment, he saw the empty tavern with a large chimney at the far end, but abruptly the floor slammed shut from his grasp and he was facing the worn wooden door once more. Panic flooding his heart, he grabbed the handle and pulled with all his might but couldn’t budge it.

Terror flooding him, the man turned to face the dark night behind him. “Lumos,” his lips were trembling, and he was becoming very aware of the amount of blood flooding from the wound on his neck.

The streets were eerily quiet, the soft patter of rain the only sound to be heard aside from his own raspy breath. The forlorn streets were bare, there was no one near to have shut the door so abruptly on him. The man took a calming breath, his mind whirling with fear, he gasped try to find the right spell to open the door.

The man was losing too much blood, he needed to get help _now_.

With one last scan of the area he turned back to the door and wheezed, “Bombarda!” His choice of spells was less conspicuous than he would have liked, but he was beginning to panic and needed to get inside. The lock exploded, and the door swung off its hinges, bringing a sigh of relief to the man as wood chips landed in the puddles at his feet. He felt his panic subdue.

Blood-soaked hands wrapped around his neck, tearing at his wound, and the last image he saw was deep red eyes as he was pulled in the darkness behind him. A shrill scream that turned into a murmur was the last sign of a struggle in the dark night.

The owl called softly into the air as the night was calm once more, and rain pattered into the puddles in the street, washing away the smears of blood from stone.

**

Harry Potter did not enjoy defense against the dark arts.

He didn’t enjoy the fact that the class had a new professor every year, or if it was because he learns more from the books he gets from Hermione, or maybe because it was the last class before supper and he was in a foul mood from lack of food in his belly. His stomach rumbled softly, and he tapped the end of his quill on his textbook, perusing the students around him to see if anyone heard, yeah it could just be because he was hungry. Harry observed the other students who were busy copying notes from the lecture, even Ron had his unkempt redhead down jotting along with his parchment which gave Harry a twinge of amusement. Maybe, he thought, it was just the current professor that he didn’t quite care for yet.

Harry followed Ron’s gaze up beyond the bobbing heads of students trying to listen to the lecture while taking notes and rested upon the tall professor speaking at the front. Harry sprawled further in his chair and lazily regarded his newest DADA professor. Tom Riddle had previously taught Alchemy but after losing the last DADA professor the previous year, Headmaster McGonagall offered him this position. The students, specifically the girls, were excited at the news as not many were interested in taking Alchemy but still wanted to have the man as a professor.

Harry watched as the man described the list of counter-jinxes that they were expected to become familiar with over the term. Riddle’s robes were immaculately kept, and Harry wondered with a spark of annoyance if he had cast a spell so repel dirt from coming anywhere near his impossibly spotless form. The professor had perfectly kept ebony curls and his dark piercing eyes gave him a stately appearance as if he were a living statue. Harry felt the man had a cold, intimidating air that left him with a bad taste in his mouth. The man was standing at the front, addressing the class with a clear baritone, and Harry turned to his other side and caught Hermione drinking in the words as if they were pumpkin juice and she was parched.

Of course, girls would be drawn to the professor’s shallow good looks, Harry rolled his eyes bitterly and flashes of Gilderoy Lockheart met his eye but refused to feel intimidated by the man he needed to help him through his NEWTS. He shook his head and attempted to focus on what the tall man was teaching, pushing away his thoughts in an effort to give the man the benefit of the doubt.

“ _A counter-jinx is a name a wizard gives his spells to make them sound more friendly_ , as quoted by Wilbert Slinkheart, the author of _Practical Defensive Magic and its use against the Dark Arts_. These counter jinxes are important in themselves but also are the basis of many advanced spells for those who fancy the idea of furthering the subject, they are a large part of the core of this class and to be considered as such in your studies.” The man trailed his cold, dark eyes over the raptured faces of the students and lingered those who were not taking notes, Harry included. Harry suppressed a shudder as he held the loaded gaze for a moment, already beginning to realize he wasn’t going to enjoy having Riddle as the professor for a class he needed to excel in to become an Auror. Harry shook his head, he wasn’t going to be intimidated, he was going to do well no matter how strict the new professor seemed to be. “For those who study these spells, they can be used to cause as much harm as the spells they counter, so they must be considered with caution.”

Absent-mindedly, Harry rubbed his forehead and ran a finger over his infamous scar for a moment before allowing his fringe to fall, obscuring it once again. He hated the memento on his forehead from that night, the night the dark-lord was defeated by his infant self. Harry thought of the picture his godfather kept of his parents and realized how lucky he was to have Sirius, the best friend of his late parents and his guardian after that night. After the family friend Peter Pettigrew betrayed Lily and James Potter, Sirius was all little Harry had left in his life. Harry knew that even though Sirius was an Auror, he was an excellent guardian and gave Harry the strength to deal with the notoriety that fateful night left him with.

Harry looked to his sides, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley sat both listening to the lecture with rapt attention, but Harry noticed the ginger was beginning to lose focus and doodle. They were his best friends, from the first time Harry stepped foot into Hogwarts, they were loyal and made him feel like ‘Harry’ instead of ‘The Boy who Lived’ which he appreciated more than the two would ever know.

Harry looked down as Ron placed a note on his lap, uncrumpling the paper and grinning as he saw the drawing. A rough picture of Harry catching the snitch was scribbled on the paper and Harry felt a chill of excitement run down his spine. Tomorrow was the year’s first Quidditch game against Slytherin and he had practiced all summer for it. He and Sirius spent most of the summer at the Burrow, where Harry spent more time in the air than on his feet. It had been a glorious summer, the twins had begun testing products for their prank shop, Sirius began dating his partner Nymphadora Tonks which made him blissfully happy, and everyone had been in generally good humor. This was one of the first years Harry was genuinely unhappy to return to Hogwarts, but he was excited to begin the studies for his NEWTS, so he could follow in Sirius’s footsteps and become an Auror.

He grinned and began scribbling a note back to Ron.

“Mr. Potter, I am surprised to see that you do not much care for counter-jinxes, considering your reputation for finding trouble. But, of course, who needs to understand how to defend themselves when they can catch a Snitch fairly well?” Riddle’s voice whipped Harry’s eyes up from his detailed drawing of Slytherin's team crying when they lose and caught the cold, dark eyes boring into him. The rest of the class turned their heads to look at him with surprise and he could see the smirk of a platinum blond sitting in front by the irritated professor.

Shock caught Harry’s throat for a moment before he could feel anger pool in his stomach. He could feel Hermione’s stern glare at him from his right and cleared his throat. “Sorry.” He muttered in embarrassment, but some force compelled him to continue. “In my defense professor, my reputation also includes being a little better than ‘fairly good’ at Quidditch.” Harry held Riddle’s gaze indignantly, not wanting the man to see how much he had intimidated him. He cursed his stupidity momentarily afterward after seeing the man’s ire.

Riddle’s expression didn’t change but his eyes gleaned with chagrin, clearly displeased with Harry’s impertinence. Harry wished he didn’t voice the smart retort as Riddle opened his mouth to scold him. “Was that supposed- “

“Just wait until the match tomorrow, Potter. You won’t think you’re so funny after Gryffindor gets creamed by Slytherin.” All eyes turned to the blond-haired boy at the front with a victorious smirk on his face, the other Slytherins giving him praise for the quip at the expense of their rival house and its star Quidditch player. Draco Malfoy’s mercury eyes bore into Harry’s as he waited for the raven-haired boy’s reaction.

At the challenge, the Irish student Seamus angrily stood up. “Yeah Malfoy, it was especially funny after Harry bested you to the Snitch _every time_ last year.”

A chorus of angry shouts erupted in the class as the Gryffindors and Slytherins stood to defend the honor of their house. Harry felt Hermione jab him in the ribs as she shot him a poisonous glare for starting such an uproar during her new favorite professor’s lecture. He winced and looked back up to see Draco smirking at him once more, ignoring the angry debate going on in the room. Harry felt his cheeks grow hot and his eyes fell to the blonde’s mouth as he saw the pink lips mouth the word _tonight_. Harry pushed down the blush and glared angrily away from the blond.

Suddenly the room fell completely quiet.

Students exchanged panicked looks and grasped at their throats as they realized they had lost their voices. All eyes turned to the front of the room where Riddle was standing with a calm but annoyed glower, the air turned cold and the students sat quickly. Riddle murmured under his breath and the students felt the vocal cords work again but gave the man terrified looks and didn’t dare utter a word. Harry was surprised the presence of control Riddle emanated, as his magic had so completely governed the room and the attention of those in it.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter, for wasting the time of all those in the room with your desire for attention.” Harry hadn’t ever felt more chastised in his life. “I do hope you keep the standard you have set for yourself at Quidditch because you have just lost Gryffindor 20 points. Now, we will continue with the lecture.” The students in red cloaks groaned and Harry suddenly felt 3 feet shorter and glared down at his desk. The amused looks the Slytherins gave him didn’t help the anger he felt growing in his stomach.

The rest of the class continued without excitement and Harry stared at his new least-favorite professor coldly the whole time. Close to the end of the class, Harry saw Ron drop another drawing on his lap. He grinned as he looked down and saw a detailed picture of a bludger cracking Malfoy in the head, knocking him off his stick-broom, but Harry didn’t dare to reply with Riddle’s attention focusing on him every minute or so.

As the class ended and students stood and began packing away their belongings, Riddle cleared his throat and commanded the attention of those in the room once more. “I want 7 inches of parchment describing what counter-jinxes you are most interested in learning about and why due in tomorrow’s class. This will be quite easy for those who cared enough to take notes.” Harry felt the man’s gaze fall on him and he looked up to see an amused grin on the stern man’s face.

Angrily, Harry grabbed his pile of books and followed his friends out of the room.

Yes, it was the professor that made him not enjoy Defence Against the Dark Arts. He did _not_ like Tom Riddle.

**

Harry was in a foul mood as the trio made their way down to supper, anger coiling in his belly at what has transpired. His friends voiced their anger at losing so many house points so early in the year but only Hermione chastised him for it. “Harry, it's extremely irresponsible to start off on the wrong foot with the professor Riddle. Especially for such a silly reason.”

Harry nodded shortly but didn’t want to discuss the git so he followed the group in silence as they arrived at the Great Hall and took their seats at the Gryffindor table.

The great-hall was alive with excitement as students chattered happily, still recalling the excitement of their holidays. The first years were still beaming with glee at the feast that appeared before them, not used to the abundance of food yet. Harry watched a squealing group first-year students with a grin, remembering his own excitement in his first year at the feast that appeared out of thin air.

Harry turned his gaze upon the head table, absent-mindedly scanning the professors gathered for supper as he helped himself to a glass of juice. The headmistress was regarding the students with amusement and her eyes met Harry’s for a moment, giving him an affectionate nod and continued inspecting the students. Harry liked the woman very much, she had become headmistress after Albus Dumbledore had died the year before Harry started school, which had devastated the wizarding community. Harry heard McGonagall had once taught transfiguration, which amusement the raven-haired boy as he remembered she-herself was an Animagus and could turn into a cat.

Harry scanned the head-table until his stare landed on the far end where his grin turned into a scowl. Riddle and Snape were sitting together, as usual, speaking quietly as they ate. Of course, the two least like-able professors would be friends, Harry thought bitterly and ran his eyes down Snape’s dark figure. He knew the two professors were friendly, but Harry was still hoping that Riddle would be more likable than the greasy-haired git he associated with. He, evidently, was wrong.

Harry turned into his friends as they were having a heated discussion about the Chudley Cannons, the professional team most of the Gryffindor house rooted for. Harry laughed as Ron heatedly expressed how he was going to become the keeper for their team one day, earning amused grins from his classmates.

“You have to be a good keeper for Gryffindor before you can think about the Pro’s, mate.” Dean Thomas laughed as Ron hit him in the arm for his snide comment but didn’t lose his grin.

Ron’s cheeks flushed as he retorted, “We won most of the games we played last year, didn’t we? I’d say that’s pretty good!”

“Yeah but that’s because we’ve got Harry, Ronald.” Hermione rolled her eyes as she looked up from the large textbook that she had been reading and earned nods of agreement from the rest of the group.

Harry looked at his friend and laughed and quipped, “Yeah, guys, maybe I should try out for the Chudley Cannons one day.” The rest of the Gryffindors laughed and agreed and looked at Ron, his face turning almost as red as his hair. Harry squeezed his friend’s shoulder, giving him an apologetic look for the joke.

Seamus, not missing a beat. “Yeah Harry, I do actually think you could make the cut! Shame though,” he shot a look at Hermione with her nose again in the book, “that you couldn’t play for Hermione’s favorite team: Bulgaria. You and her boyfriend Viktor could be great friends.” This was left with other amused grins and a few students swooned hearing the famous seeker’s name.

It was Hermione’s turn to blush angrily and set down her book, glaring daggers into Seamus and then Harry for laughing. “We did _not_ date! I attended one ball with him during the Tri-wizard tournament and we exchange letters from time-to-time!” She blushed harder as Lavender and Parvarti giggled and started gushing about how lucky she was, earning a heated glare from Ron who hated the guy. Harry shot Ron an amused look at the jealous expression on the ginger’s face when discussing Krum.

Harry laughed and remembered how exciting the tournament was and how Hogwarts roared with pride when Cederic made it out of the Maze with the cup in hand, winning glory for their school. He shuddered, thinking about the tasks and wondering if he could have even survived such an ordeal if he was old enough to compete. _Definitely not with a git like Riddle teaching me defense_ , Harry thought angrily. Cederic had graduated and gone on to the Auror training program, inspiring Harry.

“Hey Harry, you have post.” He was jerked from his thoughts when Ron beckoned to the owl that had landed in front of him.

Harry grinned and tossed the soft-white bird a piece of meat and grabbed the letter, “Thanks, girl.” The owl hooted and nipped his finger affectionately and flew off.

“From Sirius?” Hermione asked, her blush finally subsiding from the teasing.

Harry nodded and ripped the letter opened, scanning it quickly.

_Harry,_

_I hope your first week back has been going well. Even if it hasn’t, beating Slytherin tomorrow will definitely turn it into a great week!_ Harry laughed, grinning with delight and kept reading. _I managed to find the time off and will be cheering you on in the crowd, if anyone asks then I’ll be investigating a case near Hogsmeade._ Harry laughed, hearing the wink in his godfather’s words. _Do remember your old godfather before your victory party, I’ll meet up with you after the game._

_Sirius_

_P.S, kick some Slytherin Butt_

Ron leaned over Harry’s shoulder and scanned the letter laughing. Harry grinned and folded up the letter, sliding it into his robes. “Yeah, Sirius will be there.”

“I love your godfather, he knows how to have a good time.” Ron laughed with excitement. “He’s worse than Fred and George though, I have to say!”

Fred leaned down from his seat further down the table, “Hey, we resent that comment.”

George leaned forward, as well, and chirped, “Yeah, I do believe that _we_ are the worst.” The twins grinned and resumed their conversation with their year-mates.

Ron rolled his eyes and swallowed the food he had shoveled into his mouth. “Yeah, the most annoying.” He murmured low and checked to make sure they didn’t hear him. A glob of potatoes landed in his lap anyway and the table burst into laughter. The twin’s ears turned red but didn’t look up from their conversation.

Harry laughed with the rest of the table as Ron angrily glared at his brothers. Hermione bit her lip to stifle a chuckle but spelled the food away. Harry’s mood had completely changed, and he found himself glancing up at the head-table once more. Surprisingly, Riddle was looking down back at him and met his gaze. Harry flushed and tore his eyes away from the curious expression on Riddle’s face, as if he wanted to know the joke, as well.

**

Harry excused himself from his friends on their way back to their common room, explaining that he had forgotten one of the texts that he needed. They offered to come to retrieve it with him, but Harry shook his head and stated he was going to grab it quickly. Reluctantly, the group of Gryffindors made their way up to their common room without him.

The raven-haired boy wandered through the halls, descending towards the dungeons. The hallways were empty as it wasn’t far from curfew and most of the students had retired to their common rooms, so Harry enjoyed the warm evening air that wafted through the castle without disruption.

Until he was grabbed by the shoulders and pulled into an unused classroom.

Harry gasped as he was pushed roughly up against the cold, stone door of the classroom, his glasses skewed and a flash of blond hair before him. “Watch it, Malfoy!” He growled irritated, fixing his glasses.

The platinum blond Slytherin grinned and stood close enough that their faces almost bushed together, his silver eyes boring into him with captivated attention. Harry straightened his shoulders and stared fight back, green meeting grey with strength. Draco Malfoy was an arrogant pureblood and fought Harry on everything he did, his determination and sheer force of will had impressed Harry. The Malfoy heir was one of the only students who had ever dared be openly hostile towards the ‘boy who lived’ and it invigorated Harry, loving the challenge and excitement the boy offered.

Draco’s cheek brushed against Harry’s as he leaned in and whispered, “It’s Malfoy now, is it? You call me a different name when I have your cock in my mouth.” He pressed Harry against the door and nipped at his ear, his lusty tone and closeness sent jolts down to Harry’s cock.

Harry shivered and felt adrenaline rush through him mixing with his arousal, grabbing the blond and slamming him against the desk opposite them. He claimed the fair-haired boy’s mouth aggressively, his tongue persistent until it was granted access into Draco’s mouth. Harry pressed himself roughly against the other and wrapped an arm around the boy’s waist, the other tangling in Draco’s platinum locks.

Draco gasped from the sheer force of Harry’s assault on his mouth, momentarily shocked at the pressure on his lips. He felt his cock grow hard and the raven-haired boy ground his own erection against his. It consistently surprised Draco how Potter could completely turn him from a strong, confident heir to the Malfoy name into a complete and utter puddle of arousal, unable to think or even remember his own name.

Draco moaned loudly as they ground together, grabbing Potter’s hips and digging his fingers in hard, earning a hiss from the beautiful Gryffindor. Everything they did was a competition and sex was no different, it was a contest for control and Draco loved losing just as much as winning. It was the same feeling Draco got while flying against Harry on the Quidditch pitch, the adrenaline of a worthy opponent, of proving himself against _Harry_. It was a feeling no one else could give him and Draco was addicted. That’s what Harry bloody Potter was, addiction.

Harry was _Draco_ ’s addiction that the blond boy never wanted to quit.

“Bloody Hell, Potter,” Draco growled as Harry tore open his robes and grasped his cock firmly. Draco groaned and let his head fall back as Harry attacked his neck with kisses, bites, and licks. Draco’s blond halo of hair fell around his head, his pale lips parted in pleasure. Harry found the spot he knew the blond was extremely sensitive along his collarbone and sucked, stroking his cock with vigor. Draco was a lustful mess and Harry loved seeing the effect he had on someone like Draco.

Harry fell to his knees and Draco almost screamed when he felt the raven-haired beauty’s glorious mouth on his cock, sucking tightly at the tip while massaging his balls. Harry lapped up the blonde’s precum happily and worked the entire length into his mouth, staring into the foggy grey eyes that were boring into him. Draco held onto his hair as if Harry was the only thing anchoring him to this world and groaned, feeling his orgasm building.

With a gasp, Harry felt Draco’s cock throb and withdrew his mouth, finishing off the boy with his hand. Harry watched the fair-haired boy’s beautiful face as he climaxed, marveling in his beauty. Draco shut his eyes and shuddered, he stood there for a few minutes massaging Harry’s dark locks “Fuck, Harry. Your cock looks amazing around my cock.” His face was flushed from his orgasm, feeling no shame in the statement.

Harry grinned and stood to give Draco a heated kiss, his own cock still hard. Draco grinned and fell to his knees, avoiding the mess he made on the stone floor. He felt his pulse began to rise again at the thought of sucking Harry’s cock, no matter how many times he had done it, it was still a shock how perfect Harry was when aroused. He skillfully opened Potter’s robes, appreciating the boy’s lean muscle before landing on his cock.

Harry’s cock was perfect and the perfect size in Draco’s opinion, tanned with a red tip that begged to be sucked. Draco licked and sucked at Harry’s balls, giving them the attention Draco felt they deserved before moving onto the prize. Draco licked along the length and looked up, locking his eyes with Potter’s.

Oh God, Potter’s _eyes_.

Draco felt himself stop as he gazed up at the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. They had been seeing each other often since their fourth year, beginning with just kissing up working the way into more and Draco still couldn’t believe how gorgeous Harry’s eyes were, especially clouded with lust. His emerald green orbs glowed with intelligence and power, highlighted by his unruly black locks. Draco felt a twinge of humility and possessiveness that he was lucky enough to have Harry this way and couldn’t imagine the time when he still believed he hated the boy.

Draco was addicted to Harry and craved his attention, the blond-haired boy had resigned himself to this, feeling alive when Harry paid attention to him. Harry pushed him to be better, to excel, and Draco pushed himself to live up to keep up with the great Harry Potter. Harry never feels this way though, he gave Draco the most tender kisses on the blonde’s worst days, during his failures and this is what motivated him to do better, to be better.

For Harry.

Draco moaned as Harry bucked into his mouth and shut his emerald orbs in an intense orgasm. Draco held tightly onto Harry’s hips and drank in every last drop of his cum, savoring in the taste of the dark-haired beauty.

Draco stood and gave him a slow, lazy kiss. They stood there in each others’ arms, blissfully kissing for a few minutes before Harry broke away and ran a hand through his messy hair. “Is that your apology for defence today?” He grinned playfully.

Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed his arms around the other’s waist, “no apology needed, you cocky git.” He said playfully. “You got on Riddle’s hitlist in one of the first lessons, not the wisest move for someone wanting to become an Auror.”

Harry’s face darkened, and he pulled away, taking a step back. “I _know_ , I heard this already. I shouldn’t have tried to be smart, but Riddle was being a git before my comment. I should have figured, he’s close with Snape after-all.”

Draco smiled apologetically and took a step close to close the gap again, “It won’t be that bad. I’ve heard that he is fair, he just doesn’t seem to be much of a fan of Quidditch.” He finished with a goofy grin that Harry wouldn’t have believed possible for the blond before he got to know him.

Harry laughed and slapped Draco lightly on his arse. “I think you may be right. Or maybe, he doesn’t like that Gryffindor is so much better than Slytherin in that regard.”

Draco smiled mischievously and pulled Harry into a deep, sensual kiss. After he let go, harry was breathless and felt his cock stir again. Draco smirked, “watch it, Potter. You’re only so lucky because you’re such a distraction.”

“Maybe I’ll have to start flying shirtless, it might help my team.” Harry retorted back with a smile, enjoying the blonde’s company immensely.

Draco smirked back and gave Harry a light kiss on the corner of the mouth. Harry marveled at how the Slytherin’s skin glowed in the moonlight, how his grey eyes that are normally so hateful could become so affectionate. Harry groaned the _moonlight_. “It's late,” he whispered against the blonde’s mouth.

Draco looked out the window and nodded, “We should get going, we do have a game tomorrow after all.” His grin fell slightly and looked at the door. They both listened quietly for a few minutes and couldn’t hear any footsteps as they walked up to the door.

This had been their routine for the last two years and the pair hadn’t been spotted yet. At first, Harry had been extremely nervous, only using his invisibility cloak and Marauder’s map but after the ease of their meetings, he stopped bothering to bring them.

Harry gave Draco a quick kiss and opened the door quietly, stepping out into the cooler hallway. Harry marveled at how dark it had become and wondered how long they had spent together. Draco took a step to follow him out the door before they stopped in their tracks.

“Well Potter, you seem to be determined to put Gryffindor into the last place in just the first week of school.” The two jumped at the bored baritone that pierced the otherwise quiet hallway.

Harry looked up to see Riddle walking soundlessly up to them, almost blending in fully with the shadows around him. The man was wearing full black robes, but the skin Harry could see was pale and almost glowing in the moonlight as if his magic was humming just under his skin in a way that was almost inhuman and made Harry’s blood run cold. He felt Draco cower behind him and took in a deep breath, rubbing his calms on his jeans.

“I am sorry, professor, we were studying and lost our sense of time. It won’t happen again.” Harry spoke slowly, trying to emanate honesty in his words. He vehemently hoped the man would believe him and rumors of his trysts with the Slytherin wouldn’t surface. Harry knew almost any professor would give them a slap on the wrist but allow them to leave, but he had already pissed off Riddle once today which didn’t leave him hopeful.

Riddle’s eyes gleamed and regarded the two sneaking out of the unused classroom with a knowing look. “I’m sure.” His words dripped with sarcasm that stirred anger in Harry. “An odd place to study, I’d say. It is past curfew, Potter, 20 points from Gryffindor.” Riddle’s heavy gaze never left Harry as he addressed the blonde, “Draco, your godfather has told me what a model student you are. I do hope that this doesn’t happen again or there will be _consequences_.” Riddle finished, his cold gaze leaving Harry for a moment to emphasize his point to the blond.

Harry stood frozen for a moment, unable to use his throat to say anything and hating it. He hated the uneasy way Riddle intimidated him, he had never felt that way before and didn’t know how to proceed. Riddle was a right bastard who was arrogant to take points away from Harry but not Draco because of house prejudice and a general dislike for the black-haired boy after class that day.

Riddle sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, “don’t just stare at me like a dead fish, get back to your dormitories! And no detours, Potter, or I’ll know.” He dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

Harry shot off, making his way quickly toward the Gryffindor tower and gave Draco and nod before leaving. Draco nodded back and walked off in the opposite direction, toward the dungeons. Harry’s pace was quick, wanting to make it away from Riddle as fast as he could. Dark, cold eyes bore into his back until he made it to the end of the corridor and toward the stairs. 

The dormitory was dark when Harry arrived, the room lit by moonlight only. He passed by the beds of his slumbering house-mates before sinking down into his own red duvet. Setting his classes on his nightstand and toeing off his shoes, Harry collapsed onto the bed, unable to find the will to change into his pajamas. The raven-haired boy stared at the canopy above him, trying to rekindle the giddy feeling he always had after parting ways with Draco, but it would not come.

Sighing in annoyance, Harry contemplated his new professor. Tom Riddle was a bastard, that was becoming clear. He obviously had a problem with Harry since the dark-haired boy voiced his smart comment in class, which was fair, but Harry figured he probably wouldn’t like Riddle even if the class had gone smoothly.

Harry was confident, he gave respect when it was due, but he submitted to no-one and especially not some old git trying to get a reaction from him. The Gryffindor allowed his features to become contorted in a scowl, but the statuesque man had unnerved him so wholly and made his skin crawl. Harry figured Riddle must dabble in dark magic, as Harry knew he had become sensitive to it after he became the infamous ‘boy who lived’. The trick Riddle pulled in class today, taking everyone’s voices was one Harry wasn’t familiar with and seemed to ooze power which could be a sign of dark magic. However, it was extremely unlikely Riddle would risk using dark magic inside the school, especially not on students. It didn’t make sense to Harry that he was the only one to feel this way about the esteemed professor. Riddle was well-liked among the students and staff alike before Harry had him as a professor he heard nothing but praise for the man.

Surely, if Riddle _was_ a dark wizard, someone must have noticed? Harry thought of Riddle and Snape conversing over supper, surely someone who could enjoy that git’s presence was a little evil themselves. But no, Harry sighed, none seemed to share in his theory or dislike.

Harry shivered as a cool breeze drifted through the room and climbed under his goose feather duvet, sinking into the warmth appreciatively. His thoughts began to blur as he felt sleep beginning to fog his mind and succumbed to sleep. 

**

Harry knew he was dreaming.

He had been here before, more often as he aged, but his heart still softened when he laid eyes upon the small cottage. The worn stone walls were lined with flower-filled vines that nearly touched the low-hanging roof, Harry smiled softly and gazed upon his fairy-tale cottage, the windows were always bright, and the chimney had a light line of smoke whirling into the air above. Harry had been dreaming of this place all his life, and he still wasn’t sure why his mind’s eye saw fit to bring him here, but it calmed his soul more than anything he had ever experienced in his waking moments.

Harry dreamt of the cottage his whole life, but he had never been inside, his destination was the ancient oak tree just beyond. He took a few steps forward into the meadow and took in the sight of his oak tree, his branches hanging as if it were cradling the cottage below. Harry smiled and continued forward, to the wooden chairs set under the everlasting tree, facing the sunset, and was not surprised when one was already occupied.

The being was waiting for Harry, they were always waiting for him. With a calm demeanour, Harry took the seat he always did beside the ethereal figure. Harry never knew who they were supposed to represent to him, and he had never bothered to question it as they had only ever sat together calmly, sharing in the picturesque view before them.

It was always sunset here, and Harry felt his heart calm and warmth seep through his body as he watched, the oak tree a blanket from the world beyond them. He knew he should question why his mind chose this place to dream about, but the peace it brought him pushed all questions away, this place wasn’t real, but it was his sanctuary. Harry was sure if he pressed their astronomy professor, he could learn the psychological reasons why he needed to create such a world to visit, but he didn’t want to share this place.

Sitting there, with his unearthly companion, blanketed from the world, Harry could truly let himself go and drift off in the tranquility and safety of it all. This was his sanctuary, his ‘garden of Eden’ if you will, and he cherished the times his unconscious mind would bring him here. This place, where the air was always warm, the sunset was eternal, and he was never alone, felt more real than his real-life at times. Though this place held such significance in his heart, Harry could never picture the place while awake, like grasping at air.

Harry turned to look at his companion, the figure who had been an integrated part of his unconscious mind for longer than he could remember and smiled softly as he saw their head tilt as if he were whispering some inside secret Harry would only understand. The wildflowers of the meadow billowed as a warm breeze filled the air, caressing Harry’s cheek like an old lover. He noticed that the person’s eye had a bright glint.

Harry exhaled the warm air, gods he loved this place.

“I agree.” The voice that faded into the breeze was like a soft music note, clear in Harry’s head but lost in the air. Harry had never spoken to the figure before and found he couldn’t hold onto the voice once it drifted off, unable to recall what it sounded like.

With a small gasp of surprise, Harry turned to regard his companion, who gave no indication that they had spoken at all. He wanted to hear the voice again, like water on a parched tongue, Harry wanted to prod the being into speaking once more. “Pardon?”

The raven-haired boy was met with no response and wondered if it had even happened at all. Harry got to his feet, trying to grasp anything he could from the being, anything he could hold onto, anything to prove that he really heard it. He felt his eyes beginning to burn and was surprised when his cheeks were cold from wetness. Harry had _heard_ it, it wasn’t just a trick from his mind, his whole body had felt that musical voice. The words, the voice, they were meant only for Harry and belonged to him.

All too soon, Harry felt himself being pulled away, the world slipping through his fingers. He regarded his companion reverently, the first time they had ever acknowledged Harry hadn’t been enough, it was a taste of the other side and he wanted more. The image the place melted away and Harry was left feeling cold in the darkness of dreamless slumber.

**The end of chapter 1.**

**I know that there are many unanswered questions, but they be answered soon enough! (One of them probably what happened to Dumbledore, but his story was not for Harry to tell *wink*wink*)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you for the reviews! I am trying to keep Harry/Tom slow-paced until he gets closer to 17 so their dynamic is going to be kinda weird at first, but I promise you guys will start to like Tom more.   
> Sorry, it took me so long to add the chapter but I have the next two already written I just need to edit so they shouldn't take as long as this one did.   
> Please let me know what you think of it so far and what you'd like to see in the story, I am open to suggestions even though I already have the next few chapters written.   
> I also should mention that there's going to be slight incest in this (Sirius/Tonks) but I figured that it's not that uncommon among old pureblood families. If this bothers anyone, it will be minor and there won't be any R-rated scenes with them or anything.   
> There will be some Dumbledore bashing in this chapter but only very minor and there won't be anymore after this chapter.

Chapter 2  
Tom Riddle did not like Harry Potter.   
The way the boy stared at him as if he was confused as to why Tom was angry, infuriated him. That boy, who had the audacity to not pay attention in his class, who dared to give smart remarks and glare at him defiantly, the boy who dared to live.   
Yes, Harry Potter, the boy who lived, Riddle seethed with anger. He glided down the dark corridor soundlessly toward Snape’s quarters, unable to rid those cocky emerald eyes from his thoughts. Riddle had seen the boy before, yes, he had been living in the same castle together since the boy’s first year but had only observed from a distance. Tom watched the boy grow, always there in the shadows and he knew who Potter was. Riddle knew how arrogant the boy could be, how unyielding in his ideals, with unwavering determination in the tasks that he turned his focus on but with Riddle, he was supposed to be different. He knew the deepest parts of the boy, his inner mind and soul that Harry didn’t share with anyone, the boy who sat with him in their dreams. Dark eyes closed as his mind’s eye conjured an image of the oak tree, where he had spent so long watching the sunset with the raven-haired boy.   
He didn’t know what he expected when meeting Potter, but it certainly wasn’t what he received. Deep down, he knew Harry wouldn’t recognize him as his dream companion, but a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if he would. Riddle shook his head, it wasn’t time yet. He couldn’t risk the Gryffindor learning of their soul bond and fleeing (even if he knew he could always track the boy down), so he had to wait until the blood magic left from his mother’s sacrifice would be depleted and he could claim what was rightfully his.   
Only one year left. The year, Tom knew, would be infuriating but he had to make the most of the time that was being forced on him. He had started off giving the boy the wrong impression, he would have to control his anger around Potter. Tom was seductive, Merlin knows he could have any witch he wanted, and he had to start using that talent on his Harry. It would have to be subtle, quite subtle at first, but with time Harry’s soul would begin to recognize its twin and come to Riddle willingly.   
Riddle glided further down the empty corridor, blending in with the shadows. He could feel his emotions churning in his belly and he felt warmth spread through him, realizing that it was the part of Harry that resided within him. Tom would never have been able to feel like that before Potter destroyed Voldemort. He couldn’t help but wonder how his own soul had changed the boy, and if it was as drastic as how Harry’s had changed him.   
An involuntary shudder ran down his spine as he imagined the boy before him, emerald pools glistening with trust and submission. He wanted it, he desired that to happen and so it would, because Tom Riddle would will it to. Tom felt determination fill his veins like steel, a characteristic that remained from the dark lord. Tom wasn’t that man anymore, he wasn’t Voldemort with his mindless cruelty in search of power; his bond with Harry, or perhaps his death, had changed him.  
Tom was not the dark lord, he wasn’t Voldemort. Voldemort spent years, decades cultivating his followers and power. He had graduated from Hogwarts and traveled, rallying the most powerful dark families from all of Europe to his cause. Those who thought themselves powerful and cunning and unconquerable, Voldemort had owned due to his sheer power of and his incontestable charm. Tom smirked at this thought, remembering Voldemort’s power. Voldemort was the most powerful wizard in Europe, he was more than a man, more than a king.   
Voldemort was a lord, he was feared and hated, he was obeyed. Lord Voldemort was eternal, enduring.   
Then came that faithful night, when Voldemort had gone to make an example of the Potter family. The boy from the prophecy, the boy who dared to give people hope. Voldemort went to Godrick’s Hollow that night all those years ago to crush that hope with his power; the power that had become a legend, that made Voldemort a Lord, that owned everything and everyone he encountered.   
Then came Harry Potter.   
That baby, that had sat there quietly staring up at the Lord of darkness with his never-ending green orbs. The child had watched his mother die, unflinching, and stared up at the horror that had become Voldemort unfearingly. Tom remembered the boy’s eyes as clearly as if he was still there that night in his mind’s eye and remembered how they caused him to pause. Eyes that held magic beyond their years, a color Voldemort didn’t believe could be natural, the color of the killing curse.  
Harry Potter had looked upon Lord Voldemort in his full power, at the true scale of how far a wizard could fall into darkness and had found some small piece of Tom that still existed in the hurricane of madness and darkness he had become. Lord Voldemort felt something he believed he had left behind when he abandoned his filthy muggle name: he felt fear.   
Something in that boy’s eyes had made Lord Voldemort uneasy down to his core. So, Voldemort killed him, or he tried to.  
Everything that had become of Lord Voldemort, all the power he had amassed, the knowledge, everything that was the greatest dark lord of the modern era- was ripped apart in an instant. Tom was nothing, he was all that was left after the hurricane of Voldemort, the fear, the sheer emotion that was wrought upon him. Tom didn’t know if he was even corporeal during that period, he didn’t even know if he existed, and sometimes found himself wondering if he survived and this was his afterlife. Tom was a memory, ripped apart by the forces that destroyed the dark lord, left clinging onto whatever part of life that he could grasp.   
And what Tom Riddle could grasp, was Harry.   
Tom survived, he endured, through the life of others. The magic that saved that green-eyed boy, that destroyed Voldemort, saved Tom Riddle. He was not fully a wizard, not quite human. He had lost so much power that night, so much. Tom shut his eyes bitterly, he had lost everything that was Voldemort. It was the vitality of other living beings that he held onto, his anchor through the Hurricane, and that anchor had been Harry Potter.   
It was years after that fateful night did Tom learn that Tom Riddle Sr. was not fully human. The man Tom loathed to admit fathered him had vampire blood in his veins, very faint but it was there in their family lineage. The blood was so diluted that the traits lied dormant in Voldemort, that is until he was destroyed.   
Tom was saved by two things that night, the faint Vampire blood that tickled through his veins and Harry Potter’s soul.   
Tom’s soul was not whole after the darkness of Voldemort was burned away. Tom would have faded away if not for what Harry’s soul did. This was where even Tom wasn’t sure what happened but somehow Harry subconsciously shared his soul and took parts of his in return.  
Tom was reborn entirely and it was terrifying. It felt as though he had been dragged through the deepest parts of hell and the tender wounds left behind were filled with warm gold. He shuddered, despite it being a warm night.   
Fear, anger, emotion; something that Voldemort was bereft of, and shook Riddle to his core. Affection, happiness, hope; these emotions were fleeting but still, Tom felt them. It wasn’t something he had fully accustomed himself to, and he knew he never would really understand them. Tom found himself staring at the sunrise with good humor, excitement at learning a new spell and lastly hope through Potter. The boy’s soul intensified those emotions in Tom, to an extent that surpassed the capabilities of the original Riddle. The raven-haired boy had granted him rebirth as easily as he had granted Voldemort death, molding him into someone new.   
The amount of power the boy held over him was immense, and Tom planned on an evening the playing field once the boy turned 17.   
Tom knew he couldn’t live without the black-haired boy, but he also knew the boy couldn’t live without him, as well. Harry’s magic was tied to his own, he belonged to Tom. Tom didn’t like the idea of being bound to someone, of his whole life being forced to revolve around someone but it was a small price to pay for life. But Potter, the blasted boy, was like a tidal wave himself and Tom found himself getting washed away in his blasted emotions when around the raven-haired boy. Riddle didn’t know how to act, how to feel, around someone like Potter and he found it disconcerting; which, coincidently, only made him angrier.   
And then, once he was already angry, the boy has the audacity to have a sexual relationship with another. Fury boiled in him, Harry shouldn’t allow himself to even be touched by another, let alone in that way. Tom hadn’t thought about the boy in that way; as Voldemort, he had found the idea of reducing himself to such an animalistic level repulsive and had never considered anyone worthy.   
Once Harry turned 17, Tom would be free to complete the physical bond between them but that didn’t involve sex. The idea of entering that kind of relationship with the Raven-haired boy was something he considered only a handful of times, he couldn’t allow Potter to have so much power over him. He knew that once he had Harry’s blood, that’s all he would ever drink thereafter, which already gave Harry more power than he would like.   
It was natural for vampires and their mates to have a sexual relationship, but he and Potter would be different. Their souls were not just compatible, they would physically the same.  
When the bond is finally completed, he would become greater than Voldemort ever was, and Harry had to be drawn to that. Riddle knew it was a conundrum he would have to figure out eventually. It was just a matter of waiting, as the years pass Tom could feel the bond growing stronger as Harry’s dreams were becoming clearer and clearer.   
Tom reached Snape’s door and rapt loudly before walking in. The potions master was hunched over a cauldron, filling vials with the liquid and reminding him of a rather large bat. He nodded at Riddle but continued his actions careful to not disturb the potion. Riddle passed through the darkroom to stand across the desk from the man, scrunching his nose when the pungent odor of potions ingredients assaulted his senses. The room was small and dark, just off of his classroom in the dungeons so it had little airflow with the lack of windows.   
“Severus,” He nodded in greeting.   
Snape flashed his black eyes at the man before continuing, “Tom, you’ve arrived at a good time. I am finished your potion, and I renewed your supply.”   
Riddle nodded, pleased and swept to the locked cupboard, spelling it open. It was spelled to remain cold and he saw the bags of blood piled on the shelves. He grabbed one and waved a hand to tear the top before he began sucking. As soon as the liquid touched his lips, he felt renewed energy fill him and he saw his skin begin to glow in the darkness, he had waited longer than he would have liked but the blood was appreciated.   
Severus had discreet sources from where he got the blood and had been supporting Riddle since he began teaching at Hogwarts. Voldemort’s followers did not know of Riddle’s existence, so they relied on Severus’s contacts to sate his hunger. The blood was a fresh as it could be, and kept his hunger at bay, Tom was still forced to find fresh blood about once a month.   
After finishing two bags, Tom turned to see Severus finishing with his cauldron. The dark-haired man regarded his renewed form for a moment. “Did you come into my chambers yesterday?” He turned and leaned against his desk.   
Tom’s eyes narrowed for a brief moment and cocked his head, “Why, Severus, are you accusing me of something? I have no reason to break into your rooms when you supply me with everything I need already.” He crossed his arms lazily, regarding the potions professor with the cocked eyebrow.   
Snape shook his head and placed the vials of potion in an empty box he had laid out. “Of course not, my friend, but someone was in my quarters while I was in class and I am not sure who it was. It looked as though they were looking for something, but nothing was taken. I set up wards to inform me if such a situation arises again.”  
Tom grinned amused, “Maybe the house-elves have a vendetta.”   
Snape didn’t laugh, merely shrugged and the troubled look on his face morphed into a grimace. “What did you think of Potter? I’m assuming your first class went well.”  
Riddle’s mood turned foul at the mention of the boy that he had come to Hogwarts to get close to. He shook his head and glared at the ceiling, “He is a Brat. He is cocky, sarcastic, and needs to be taught respect.” He didn’t much want to talk about the boy he somehow lost control of his emotions with.  
Snape barked a laugh at that, “I am sure that in time you will teach him. He is rather mild-mannered in my class as of late.” The dark-haired man paused and regarded the vampire from the corner of his eye, “Can you control yourself with him?”  
Riddle shrugged and remembered how long he was stuffed in the same room as the boy, his blood calling out to him. “I am fine, but I imagine it’ll become more difficult. I hate the way he ignores my lectures with an arrogance that I cannot bear, Severus. I want to shake him and make him look at me, its infuriating.” Riddle knew how pathetic he sounded, and he hated it. He hated who Harry made him, the cold mask he learned in Slytherin was almost impossible to maintain around the boy.   
Snape gave him a sympathetic look. “You’ve made it through these years, my friend. There is so little time left before he comes of age.” The man’s tone was light and made Riddle roll his eyes, he knew Severus didn’t fully agree with what must happen. They had discussed it in length many times past but Riddle would not allow the man to interfere with his bond.   
Tom had found Snape a few years after the fall, and while Voldemort had only had Severus’ loyalty through fear, Tom had it through comradery. It was because of his emotions that he had come to care for his only friend, and he appreciated Severus in a way Lord Voldemort never could have. Severus understood his situation and stood by Tom when he wasn’t sure who he could trust. Tom didn’t have the power Voldemort had, not yet at least, and his old followers would try to destroy him for his weakness. Severus had helped him hide, had helped him survive these turbulent years.  
Riddle knew that there was a very good chance Snape was manipulating him and keeping him close, but he appreciated the support despite the motives.  
After sharing their days, Tom bid goodnight to the potions master and took his supply of appetite suppressant with him up to his corridor. Tom passed through the door he had found Potter and the Malfoy boy come out of with anger. Tom knew what had transpired, following Harry’s scent there. He knew he was unable to do anything for over a year, but he still hated the idea of someone else touching what was his.   
No matter, thought Tom with a devilish smile, he could still see a side of Harry that already belonged to him alone. He closed his eyes in meditation, as close as he could come to sleep.   
!!!!!!!!!!!!  
Harry felt a rush of cold air below his feet as he soared through the air high above the Quidditch pitch. He had tuned out the crowd below and focused on the wind rushing through his air as he maintained his balance. It was late in the game and he had yet to see the snitch, he kept an eye on his fierce blond opponent who flew in circles looking for the little flash of yellow light.   
Harry groaned loudly as he saw Gryffindor lose the quaffle once more, leading to another point for Slytherin and bringing the score seventy to twenty in favor of the snakes. Green flags were waved proudly as the crowd roared in excitement, which rallied the green team with fever and pushed all the harder for the win. Glancing at Ron, he was making impressive saves, but the red team just couldn’t keep possession long enough for them to attempt to score, which put ever more pressure on their keeper.   
The first match of the year was important for morale, and Harry couldn’t allow them to lose to their rivals.   
Harry scanned the high skies once more, not seeing the little glint of yellow and flew lower. He shot a look a Draco who was glaring at him haughtily, determined to best Harry and the lions. Now, on the Quidditch pitch, their trysts did nothing but increase their competitive streaks determined to best the other. Harry wouldn’t allow Draco to triumph, especially not with his godfather watching.   
Harry scanned the crowd, looking for the enthusiastic black-haired man. As he was perusing the stands, something moved in the corner of his eye. With a lurch in his stomach, he caught the glint of light that appeared to be the snitch. With a quick glance, he waited until Draco was analyzing the other side of the pitch for their goal and took off at full speed.   
The crowd screamed with excitement once they saw Harry soaring toward the eastern stands at full speed, alerting the blond who then followed suit.   
Harry laughed, loving the feeling of flying through the air at full speed, the wind biting at his face. He kept his eyes on the snitch, that was hovering as if waiting for him to catch up. Harry heard a whoosh of air and had to roll his broom to the left to avoid a well-placed bludger that Slytherin had sent his way, giving the blond seeker a chance to catch up and surpass Harry by a foot or so. The crowd gasped as Harry completed the maneuver to avoid the bludger and cheered as both seekers flew almost neck-in-neck to the golden ball.   
As soon as the boys grew close, the snitch took off. The small golden ball soared straight up, and they had to pull sharply on their brooms to follow. Harry made the sharper turn and gained the advantage on Draco once more, stretching his hand as far as he could but the Snitch was just slightly out of his reach.   
“Harry!” Draco’s shriek was the only warning he received when a bludger was sent towards his chest. Harry gasped and dodged the bludger narrowly, spinning to the left and losing his balance. The blond didn’t wait for him to straight out and sped past him towards the golden ball. Harry was dazed for a moment, but his gratitude towards Malfoy was short-lived as he set himself on course to case the Snitch once again.   
Draco’s fingers seemed to be brushing against the Snitch and determination filled Harry, today wasn’t going to be the day Slytherin would best them. For a brief moment, he recalled Riddle’s condescending sneer about needing to win the game today in order to make up for losing so many house points the day before. Determination settled in his stomach like steel, he would win, he would not give Riddle any ammunition to taunt him.   
Harry watched the zigzag pattern the golden ball was making and could see it twitching to the right. The movements were so small that Harry wasn’t sure how he noticed them, but he trusted his gut and pulled off to the right. He knew if his intuition was wrong then that move would have lost Gryffindor the game and that couldn’t happen.   
Especially not if he was watching, Harry thought vehemently with the image of those cold, dark eyes flashing before him. His strong dislike for the professor left a rotten taste in his mouth and panic filled him for a moment as the Snitch continued its course, almost in Draco’s palm.   
Harry kept his pace slightly to the right of the blond, much to the dismay of the crowd. Harry glared at the Snitch, watching for signs of direction change. It was so slight that he didn’t realize it at first, the Snitch veered sharply to the right, much to the blonde’s dismay and directly into the path of the raven-haired seeker.   
With a grin, Harry leaned forward directly at the Snitch, feeling his heart trying to jump its way out of his chest. He could have cried when he felt the cool metal of the small ball in his palm, fighting for only a moment before accepting its capture. Some part of his mind heard Draco swear above him. Excitement exploded through his chest and stars were spinning in front of his eyes, adrenaline pumped through his veins.   
Harry steadied his broom to a stop and held the golden Snitch high for all to see.   
There was an uncertain pause before the stadium broke out into deafening cheers, the Gryffindors roaring in triumph. As his teammates swarmed him in elation, Harry shut his eyes and thought of how sweet it would be to see Riddle’s face at the moment before he was swept into the celebration.   
!!  
“You really had us all going, Harry!” Sirius laughed and shook his head with his eyes full of excitement. “We had no idea what your plan was when you suddenly flew off in a different direction than the Snitch!”   
Harry laughed as he walked through the grounds with his godfather, Tonks and his friends. It took him quite some time to worm his way out of the celebrating crowd who all wanted to give him a pat on the back or high-five. He had to grab Ron and sneak out of the back of the changing tent, meeting a grinning Hermione before sneaking off to find his godfather. They walked towards the black lake, avoiding the large groups of celebratory students making their way back to the castle.   
Tonks nodded, flashing Harry a mirthful smile. “Yeah, that was brilliant, Harry. How did you know it was going to change directions like that?” She tossed her fiery red hair behind her back and the whole group turned to him, curious at his answer.   
Harry shrugged, “I noticed it was veering right slightly and I just hoped, I suppose. I was lucky though, I would have gotten taken out by the bloody bludger if Malfoy hadn’t warned me in time.” He grimaced, thinking of how much damage a bludger could do if it hit him square in the chest.   
“That’s what happened!” Hermione exclaimed. “We noticed you almost got hit, we weren’t sure what happened.” Her face scrunched up in question, “Why would Malfoy warn you? It’s the decent thing to do but we all know he’s far from decent.”   
Harry looked at her and shrugged, not feeling inclined to answer. It had surprised Harry a great deal, as well. He knew Draco wanted nothing more than to beat him in front of the crowd and he didn’t think some casual fooling around would affect that. Harry made a mental note to thank the blond properly the next chance he got.   
He turned to grin at Ron and give him a playful shove, “You made some pretty impressive saves too, if you hadn’t been on your toes then we would have lost regardless of if I caught the Snitch.” This earned a rather dour grin from the ginger who clearly wasn’t pleased with his performance.  
Sirius noticed the boy’s disappointment and squeezed his shoulders, giving him a cheerfully mischievous grin. “You know, I agree with Harry. Some of your maneuvers were close to what the Cannons use! I can prove it.” Harry cocked an eyebrow at his godfather, wondering what he meant.   
Tonks gave Sirius a knowing look and laughed at the trio who were looking up at Sirius questioningly, wondering what the eccentric man could have this time. After digging through his Auror red robes, Sirius pulled out an envelope and handed it to the ginger. “That’s it, open it!”   
Ron tore the paper and came face to face with a wizarding picture of the veteran Chuddley Cannons keeper that was signed to future quidditch star, Ron Weasley. The photo showed the man executing a maneuver that Ron was surprisingly close to imitating during the game against Slytherin.   
Ron stared at the picture in shock, rubbing his thumbs along with the size in awe, unable to speak for almost a full minute. “This is bloody awesome, Sirius!” He beamed up at Harry’s godfather and Harry couldn’t help but smile as well, finding his good humor infectious. “I can’t believe you met him!”  
Sirius shrugged and shot a knowing look at his partner, “Tonks and I helped the team owner with a legal issue not too long ago and we’ve been close since.” He winked at the three students who laughed.   
They wandered along the grounds, discussing the game and the past week. Harry found himself not wanting to tell his godfather of his issues with Riddle when asked how he was liking his classes, not even wanting to think of the git. He was in such good humor and didn’t want to ruin it, and though Hermione told Sirius about Riddle she thankfully didn’t mention his discipline of Harry.   
When Harry asked Sirius how work was going and why he was wearing his formal Auror robes to the school which he normally did not do. Sirius sighed, and Tonks gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. When Sirius didn’t answer, she reached into her own robes and pulled out today’s copy of the Daily Profit and handed it to Harry, opening it to the second page.   
Ministry Official Murdered in What Appears to be a Cult Killing  
Harry grimaced as he read the headline and scanned the article that features a picture of a tall, dark-haired man that couldn’t be much older than Sirius, “Wilkie Twycross, member of the department of magical transportation.” He murmured. “Where have I heard his name before?”  
Sirius sighed, “He teaches apparition to the seventh-year students at Hogwarts. We need to have a meeting with McGonagall.” He cast a forlorn look up at the castle and shook his head.  
Hermione, who had been rather quiet up until now blinked a few times and frowned, “But, sorry for prying, I thought you and Tonks didn’t deal with murder cases often?” Harry nodded in agreement, wondering why his uncle had been assigned the case. Sirius was a senior Auror and for the last few years had been allowed to pick and choose the cases he was assigned. Judging by the look on the man’s face, he hadn’t chosen this one.  
Sirius seemed darkly amused that Hermione had remembered that information. “I keep underestimating what a bright witch you have become, Hermione!” Hermione attempted to hide her blush, but he continued, kicking a few stones that lined the path to the castle. “This killing, however, happens to be right up my alley.” He gave Harry a soft look.   
Curiosity had Harry narrowing his eyes and chirping up, “How so, Sirius? Because they think it was a cult?” Harry wasn’t so sure he knew what they meant by a cult killing.   
“Willkie was an ex-death eater, Harry.” Tonks cut in, her eyes growing hard and Harry felt his stomach lurch. “He was acquitted during the death-eater trails… And as for the cult killing, they found this carved into his skin.” Tonks trailed off into an unpleasant silence and flipped through her sketchbook and handed it for the three to see.   
Harry felt his blood run cold as he grasped the notebook. The symbol was eerily close to the one Voldemort had used, it was the same skull, but it didn’t have the snake through its mouth. Tears of what Harry assumed was blood dripped from the eyes and a rough image of a sun replaced the snake in the skull’s mouth. The image sent shivers down Harry’s spine and he shoved the notebook back to his godfather, feeling uneasy. “Is it other ex death-eaters who did this?” His voice was a whisper and he rubbed his forehead apprehensively.   
Sirius handed Tonks the notebook and the group hurried their pace back to the castle; Sirius’s expression was hard as stone. “I don’t know yet, Prongslett. We are going to find that out.” His tone was soft, understanding his godson’s apprehension. “Either way, you are in no danger okay? Just stay on the grounds until we get this cleared up.” His eyes flashed, “No, adventures.”  
Harry gave his godfather a nod, not wanting to give the Auror anything else to worry about.   
They finished their trek back to the castle rather quietly, Hermione and Tonks chatting about Viktor much to Ron’s chagrin. Harry’s mind was reeling, hearing anything about Voldemort’s reign of terror was rare but the idea of someone killing for the monster was terrifying, he thought all the active death-eaters were in Azkaban. They reached the castle after a few minutes, Sirius and Tonks agreed to walk them to the Gryffindor tower.  
“Well, well, well, I thought I smelled wet dog.” A cold, sarcastic voice drawled, and Severus Snape appeared in the hallway by them. His black eyes fixed upon Sirius with such hatred that gave new meaning to the expression ‘if looks could kill’.   
Sirius stopped in his tracks and analysed the potions master with a giddy gleam in his eye. “Snivellus! How have you been? It looked almost due for your annual shower, the grease is beginning to drip.” The two men crossed their arms and regarded each other with dislike.   
Snape narrowed his eyes and retorted, “How’s your flea problem? I’ve heard they’re killer this time of year.” Harry stood behind his godfather and crossed his arms, as well, giving his potions professor a cold stare.   
Tonks laughed and wrapped her arm around Sirius’ waist. “Hello, Professor, I am pleased to see you’re well. Professor McGonagall is expecting us, and we still must walk these three to their dorms, so we’ll have to be going.” She regarded the professor for a moment and only received a cold nod. Before waiting for her partner, she walked off towards the staircases.  
Sirius shot Snape a glare and muttered “greasy git” before following the redhead. The trio followed close at his heels, suppressing laughter. Harry knew his godfather hadn’t been on good terms with Snape when they attended Hogwarts and it gave Harry satisfaction to see his godfather take Snape down a few pegs. It was surprising to see how much animosity still existed between the two men since Sirius is so level-headed, but he let the greasy git get under his skin.   
!!!!!!!!!!!!  
Severus Snape seethed as he stormed through the corridors, his dark cloak billowing behind him with vigor.   
He hated Sirius Black. He hated the boy who had grown up tormenting him in Hogwarts, he hated the man who overcame the prejudices attached to his name and became an Auror at a tender age, he hated the man that had become an Auror to save people but allowed the love of his life and her husband to die. Sirius hated the fact that Black became Harry’s guardian after Lily’s death as if he could somehow make up for what he did.  
Black could have stopped it from happening, he could have saved them, but he failed. Lily Potter lost her life because her friends had failed her.   
Black had insisted Peter become the Potter’s secret keeper, because he feared the responsibility and, in turn, handed the love of Severus’s life and her infant son to the dark lord. Black had the audacity to look down on Severus who had given everything to stop the dark lord, after the crimes he had committed? Lily’s son looked upon a coward as a role model and it disgusted Severus if Albus was still here…   
Severus winced as he thought of the man who had controlled Severus for so long, the lord of light. With his twisted version of good and evil, he had caused Severus almost as much pain as the dark lord had.   
Albus Dumbledore was the only man Severus had ever killed.   
Albus Dumbledore was a great wizard, his power was unmatched and was a warrior of the ‘greater good’. His magic had been renown, especially after his defeat of the dark lord Grindlewald, and even he-who-must-not-be-named had feared him. It was Severus, only him, who had seen the true cruelty that resided in the twinkling blue eyes. The man had been so close to destroying his second dark lord because of Severus.   
Albus knew he knew about Riddle and in time he learned of his soul-bond with Lily’s son. Severus had a moment of weakness and went to the headmaster, explaining himself and begging Albus to help him keep Harry safe from the creature Voldemort had become. He knew that the friendship he had begun with the man who was strangely so different from the dark lord had made him weak, he wasn’t sure he could kill Riddle when the need would arise, so he went to the champion of the light.   
Dumbledore destroyed Severus in all but body with a demand proposed as an observation. His mind took him back to that bright morning in Dumbledore’s office when the man had leaned forward to a grief-stricken Severus and muttered, “The boy’s death will mark the death, the final death, of Voldemort.” The twinkle in his eye was clear enough, his bright blue eyes bore into Severus’s with the severity of his demand.   
Albus, after everything Severus had lost, everything he had given up for the cause, had told him to kill Lily’s son. That was when the weight of the world he hadn’t known he was carrying had hit him, crushing him into the dirt until all that was left of Severus was dust. It was then that the weight of it all broke him: his childhood, his parents, his torment at Hogwarts, the loss of Lily to Potter, the torture, the hatred he received and gave, and finally, the death of the only good thing that had ever graced his life: Lily Potter. Since her death, Severus had been crawling beneath the weight, wishing for death with the only thought of keeping him safe: Lily’s son, the only small part of her he had left.   
Dumbledore didn’t care that he had given too much already, he didn’t care that the small child had saved the world, he didn’t understand. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back.   
Before Severus or even Albus realized it, he had his wand raised to the elder wizard. The weight of everything that he had been through sent absurd power jolting through him, the magic he wasn’t sure was even his own.   
Severus never heard himself utter the curse, lost in himself as he was, but he watched as green engulfed his mentor and destroyed the man. It took so long before he came back to himself, not comprehending what had happened. He, Severus Snape, murdered Albus Dumbledore in Hogwarts. If he hadn’t taught there himself, it would have been impossible to cover the whole thing up. Severus was a potions master, through and through, and used his skill to clear himself from the crime scene.   
Severus was drowning in his own insanity when he cast the curse but looking into the old man’s lifeless blue eyes had struck him back to reality. He had murdered Albus Dumbledore, and he had done it for Harry Potter, he had done it for Lily and himself. Severus had done more for the Potters than they would ever know, more than Black had.   
He went back to Riddle, explaining what had happened, hoping for death. He had betrayed the man, and Severus knew what he would receive at the hands of the ex-dark lord would be no worse than his fate is left to the ministry. Snape did not beg, he did not cry, he waited for the curse that he should have received after the love of his life died.   
It did not come.   
Severus remembered the look on Tom Riddle’s face clearly and it was that night he knew Tom was not Voldemort. Riddle wasn’t a monster, maybe he wasn’t evil. The emotion that dominated the vampire’s eyes was something that he didn’t believe possible: empathy. The man did not pity Severus, he understood. Severus had killed his mentor for the man’s soul-mate, and in turn, for him. The professor had not done it out of fear, out of a desire to please the ex-dark lord, he had to do it out of true loyalty even if that loyalty was to Harry Potter.   
That night had marked the change in their relationship. They were not master and servant, they were something Tom Riddle had never had before: comrades, and friends. It was not always functional, and the topic of Harry’s 17th birthday led to heated arguments, but it was a new experience for both men and it was cherished.   
Severus’s allegiance was still to Harry Potter for Lily, but it was also to Tom Riddle and that was because he chose it to be- not out of some sense of duty.   
!!!!!!!!!!!  
“Move it, Mudblood.”   
Draco shoved his way through the excited crowd at the Quidditch pitch and set course to find his parents. He was irritated at the loss, embarrassed that he came so close to finally beating Harry.   
Harry, he sighed. If he didn’t warn the boy about the bludger than he finally would have beat Gryffindor. That wouldn’t have been winning, he thought angrily. Even if he could bear the thought of the dark-haired beauty getting clobbered by the ball, he wouldn’t have wanted victory that way. Draco wanted to show that he was just as good as Potter, not that he wanted the other seeker incapacitated in order to win. It didn’t much matter now though, he would have to just train and be ready for when he faced off against the Gryffindor again.   
What had unnerved him, however, was how he had warned Harry without pause. Once he saw Harry in danger of getting stuck, lost in his own determination to beat Slytherin, his blood froze in his veins and he called out to Harry, terrified. As much as Draco didn’t want to believe it, Harry had wormed his way into his heart and affected his emotions the same way as his cock. It wasn’t fair, Potter already had everything, he had Draco’s body but why would he have his heart too?  
As frustrated as Draco was with himself, he couldn’t be angry or resentful with Harry. Something about those damn green eyes had taken a hold of Draco and there was no way he could crawl out of the grasp. He had a taste of the damn Gryffindor and was addicted.  
Draco angrily shoved through the crowd, looking for the one he dreaded seeing most: his father. Lucius Malfoy was the head of the Malfoy family, regal and cold as any pureblood could hope to be. Perfection was an expectation he had for Draco and to have a half-blood best him in front of so many people, it left Lucius displeased. It was unavoidable, he had to search out his father and have the chastise be over with.   
A flash of platinum blond caught Draco’s eye and he saw his father standing in a group of parents, a cold smile upon his regal face. He turned to face Draco and beacon him over, the blond boy felt his feet grow heavy with dread. Once he arrived, Lucius excused himself from the group and motioned from his son to follow him a little further away. Draco noticed how stiff the man had become, which was uncustomary for his father.   
Once they had privacy, Lucius turned to his son coldly, “I see the half-breed has managed to find a way to best you once again, Draco.”  
Draco flushed abashed and trained his eyes on the ground at his feet, not wanting to see his father’s disappointment. “I’m sorry, father. I won’t allow Potter to beat me again,” The blond boy muttered.   
Lucius stood straighter and snorted lightly, something he would not have allowed anyone, but Draco, to hear. “It had been that way since your first year, a promise for the future is worth less than victory today. I hoped that bludger would break the boy, but he somehow caught it before he could get hit.” Draco knew he wouldn’t say any of these things so bluntly for the other families to hear, only his son was ‘lucky’ enough to see the cruelty the man was capable of.   
Draco bowed his head, wishing he could escape this conversation. “I’m sorry, father.”  
“Straighten your back and stop apologizing, son, it is unbecoming and not appropriate for a Malfoy.” Lucius raised Draco’s chin to meet his own gaze. “I will not have the Malfoy heir groveling, you are to learn from your failure. Potter will get his due.”   
Draco pulled his chin away and raised an eyebrow at his father questioningly, was he planning on hurting Harry for winning the match? “What do you mean, father?” He kept his voice light and uncaring, not wanting Lucius to question his motives asking. The crowd was beginning to disperse, and they would need to travel back to the castle soon, the sun was waning lower towards the horizon.   
Lucius smiled, a cold, sadistic glint appearing in his eye. “Things are about to get interesting around here, Draco. As much as possible, stay away from Potter.” He clasped Draco’s shoulder and turned him towards the school, changing the topic, “Now, tell me, how are your classes going?” He started marching them back towards the school.  
Draco knew he couldn’t push the subject with his father, he recognized the one the man used and would only grow angry with him. His stomach twisted as they made their way towards the castle, what did he mean? Was Harry in danger? Draco knew he had to press his father for more information, just not tonight; it was late, and his father was already angry, so Draco reined in his questions and told him about his first week back at Hogwarts absentmindedly, his thoughts fixed on Harry.


End file.
